


Just a Taste

by mouriana



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 23:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4456457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mouriana/pseuds/mouriana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just a single scene that may not even be actually included in the final work, but I thought it captured well how Sherlock might act if he were ever in any kind actual 'real' relationship with a female.  The female is unnamed in this bit, but if there is a positive response, I could post much more, as I currently have over twenty pages of the beginnings of a 'real' story involving this same character.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Taste

Sherlock came up behind me while I was fixing eggs, wrapping his long arms around me and burying his face in my hair.   
"So that's how it's done," he said with just enough seductive air that I knew he was being facetious. I laughed.   
"How what is done?"  
"Breakfast."  
I laughed again, harder. "Goodness, Sherlock, John told me that he has explained this to you, as has Mrs Hudson. Don't tell me out of all the wonders in your head that you've forgotten already."   
I felt his lips on my neck and I turned off the fire, knowing that if I wasn't very careful, the eggs would burn.   
"That sort of breakfast was never worth remembering."  
"And why would this one be?"  
"Because it was preceded by a thorough analysis and discussion of insect larvae stages in determining decomposition rate."  
I turned to him and kissed him hard, on the mouth. "Oh, you do know how to sweet talk a lady, don't you?" I kissed him again, then raised an eyebrow in what I hoped would be a somewhat suggestive manner. "Though we never did determine what the exact growth and multiplication rate would be if a body were refrigerated within 24 hours of death, for a minimum of six months."   
He smiled that enigmatic half-smile of his. "Oh, I have copious notes on the subject."   
"Oh, really?" I laughed again, but instead of continuing the game, I turned back to the eggs. The remaining heat in the pan had finished cooking them, though a bit unevenly. It would have to do. I served them up with mugs of tea.   
"Sorry there's nothing but eggs and tea. Honestly, I'm surprised I was even able to find that much edible in that petri dish you call a refrigerator. And yes, I checked the eggs for needle marks before cooking them."  
He gave me a questioning look. I rolled my eyes. "And no, I didn't throw out the ones that did have needle marks."   
“Good. I would hate to lose six months of research."  
I sat at the table and sipped my tea. "You know, most people don't use eggs that have been in the refrigerator for six months."  
"I know!" he exclaimed excitedly, "that's what would make it a perfect crime!"   
"Ah, but if you violate the integrity of the shell, the egg inside becomes compromised, it rots, and smells like sulphur so badly that even a poor housekeeper would notice and throw out the egg."  
He looked momentarily disappointed.   
"I know, it's difficult to detect a smell like that in your refrigerator... "  
"But if the victim is a poor housekeeper and has a poor or non-existent sense of smell, it would be even more perfect!" And he was off again.   
I sighed melodramatically. “Sometimes I think you just use my body to get at my mind.”  
“And why wouldn’t I do that? With a mind like yours….”  
He gave me a look. I leaned towards him, slowly.   
“You are a dirty, dirty man,” I whispered with a smile.


End file.
